The Lady in the Looking Glass
by EleanorKate
Summary: The residents of Nonnatus cope with Sister Monica Joan's deteriorating health - Chapter 3 up
1. Chapter 1

The small crowd of nurses, nuns and Police Officers outside Nonnatus House was thankfully attracting little attention for a grey and cloudy Friday afternoon.

The centre of what attention there was, however, was striking out with a chair leg wielding with a shaky arm it in the face of anyone who came near her. One of the Police Officers was already wearing a rather unsightly split lip.

"Sister Monica Joan, please!" Sister Julienne pleaded at the older Nun. "It's far warmer inside and… ".

"No!" came the sudden reply. "You're taking me away to a rotten prison. I know Father has told you to take me away so be sure that you are not telling me lies!"

Sister Julienne breathed. She was a patient woman but to her side she heard Sister Evangelina huffing.

"Can we not just take her inside?" Sister Evangelina whispered. "Pick her up and just…" she gestured as though she was about to give somebody a fireman's lift.

"Father never liked Antonia" Sister Monica Joan contined to mutter, twisting her hands around the chair leg, strangling it with knarled fingers. "Father much preferred Percival and Henry. Antonia was never a suitable daughter for him; never a suitable daughter with her ideas and fantasies. She always as her head in the clouds with silly ideas he used to say".

"Sister?" one of the Police Officers asked. "Do you want us to take her to the Police Station?" He was the officer with the congealing blood on his lip, caught by the rough edge of the chair leg as she swung away at this unfamiliar face who had - even though the young man had been more than gentle and respectful - in her eyes accosted her.

"I appreciate Constable that there are potentially charges to be had but I do feel that as soon as we have return her to the house and we can speak whilst its quiet, I can assure you..." she was about to conclude her sentence when behind them a black Wolseley rolled to a halt.

Sister Julienne had deliberately sent Cynthia inside to telephone the Police Station and to ask for Peter. Hopefully, Sister Julienne, mused when two unfamiliar constables had answered their plea, the presence of a Police Officer who had been frequenting Nonnatus on an almost daily basis for several weeks now after gaining the attention of one of its occupants, might just do the trick.

He stepped through the crowd, flanked by the other officers; the Sisters and nurses stepping back.

"It's Peter, Sister" he said, stretching out hand to her. "Do you remember me?"

He saw her look at him curiously and for a moment the haze seemed to lift.

"Yes. Oh yes! Oh joy is mine! I remember you; you're my daughter's husband". All the parties standing on the steps of Nonnatus saw her eyes almost mystically change at the recognition of a familiar face and for a moment the confusion was theirs with this reference to a child and a husband. "I do like you; you look after my dear girl so well".

The chair leg clattered to the floor and rolled towards Sister Evangelina. She picked it up swiftly to avoid any repetition of the last half hour's shenanigans.

"Jennifer", Sister Monica Joan announced, waving her arm in the direction of the small crowd of nurses. "Do be a good girl and take my other arm and your husband and you can escort me back to the old house".

Jenny felt Sister Evangelina' elbow in her side as she struggled to comprehend what was enfolding in front of her. Quietly Peter caught her attention, eyes widening, tipping his head to the steps as Sister Monica Joan held out her arm for her.

Jenny and Peter, each silent, guided the Sister up the steps back into Nonnatus.

"You must tell me though, my dears" she said, gently squeezing Jenny on the arm. "What are all these Police Officers doing here?"

Sister Julienne took one look at Sister Evangelina.

"I'll telephone Dr Turner".

Shortly after the good doctor had been escorted upstairs by Sister Julienne, Chummy and Cynthia, fresh from a co-incidental return to Nonnatus together wandered in the kitchen.

"Gosh! Such a lot of people! What on earth's going on?" Chummy asked, seeing three police officers, Jenny and Trixie at various points in the kitchen.

"Sister Monica Joan in the bike shed with a chair leg" Trixie quipped as she filled the kettle for a hot water bottle.

"Pardon?" Chummy asked, deeply confused at the scenario unfolding in front of her now seeing Jenny turn with a bloodied piece of cotton wool in her hand.

She was just about to receive an explanation from Peter when Sister Monica Joan swept past them both straight towards Trixie, snatching the newly filled hot water bottle off her.

Sister Julienne and Dr Turner arrived seconds later, having seen his patient escape her room with such swift attention they wondered if they were not dealing with a teenager.

"Silly girl!" she said suddenly, glancing at Trixie. "I really must speak to Mother about the staff. Why she insists on employing staff who are nothing but lazy slips of girls! How long have you been filling a simple hot water bottle?! The good doctor here has patients to attend besides me!"

To her side she noticed Chummy and Peter.

"Ah! My niece has arrived", Sister Monica Joan, said, tapping Chummy's hand. "How wonderful! It's just been so long since you came to visit! I must tell Mother you are here at last".

Both Chummy and Peter, however, noticed the look of disapproval crossing her face as she noticed that her other hand, whilst it was not entirely encased in his, their fingers were loosely linked almost unconsciously as she had taken her place by his side. Sister Monica Joan dropped Chummy's hand like it had burnt her and walked towards Jenny, taking her by the elbow.

"I did tell you young lady, that that husband of yours has a wandering eye, but did you listen?! On your head my girl and with your own cousin!"

The elderly Sister suddenly turned on her heel and flouced away, swiftly followed by Dr Turner.

"Nurse Miller", Sister Julienne said, turning her head to make entirely sure of where the Doctor and Sister had gone, "I suggest you assist Dr Turner"

"Yes Sister", she replied, not even having a moment to remove her coat. "Nurse Franklin, if you could attend to our Police Officers and Nurses Browne and Lee, would you care to accompany me?".

She heard another chorus_ of "Yes Sister" _as she walked away towards the sitting room.

Chummy and Jenny sat side by side on the settee as Sister Julienne took up her place opposite them.

"As you can both imagine, and can see, we must be cautious. If it persists that Sister Monica Joan is fixated that you both are her daughter and niece, and for some reason Constable Noakes is married to you Nurse Lee, you must both be careful". She paused seeing heads nodded.

"Nurse Browne I suggest you explain to Constable Noakes just how much Sister Monica Joan's illness seems to be deteriorating these past months . It may help if the Police see fit to consider charges for assault".

"I will Sister", she replied.

"Thank you. Now, I would hope that it will not cause any ill will between you". Both nurses looked to each other silently.

"It won't Sister", Jenny replied as she saw a reassuring smile from Sister Julienne. "We know she is ill".

"Very good", the Sister replied, gently nodding her head. "In that case, we can all get on with our days".


	2. Chapter 2

This was a time of day that she loved. Not even having been awake for however many hours it was now, when she heard the bells and whistles of the docks springing into life, she felt as though this was 'her' time of day. The sky that floated above her was almost royal in its nature with blues, yellows and golds intertwining with plumes of smoke as the residents of Poplar breathed soul into a new day. Cycling, however, and rapidly closing eyes were never suitable bed-fellows.

Chummy stopped on the corner of Blair Street and dismounted from her bicycle.

"Maybe walk for a while" she said under her breath. "You'll kill yourself old girl if you carry on that way".

She walked a few more paces, breathing in as much icy air that she could in the hope that the cold would inject life into her veins again when he appeared a good twenty paces in front of her. She sped up slightly although he had heard the squeak of her bicycle wheels and turned around.

"Good morning" he said as she approached.

"Hello" she replied, noting he was on his own.

Peter looked around them to see the street was deserted, leaning across to kiss her quickly on the cheek.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Perfect".

"Going home?" he asked, realising they were only streets away from Nonnatus.

She nodded.

"Shall I walk you back, or would you like a cup of tea first?" he said nodding to an all-night café over the road, even though they both knew it was actually quite a horrid place. They had experienced it once, being doled out two cups of tea and a shared and extremely greasy cooked breakfast that made them both feel slightly ill, so it may not be an encounter that either would want to repeat.

"Walk me back to Nonnatus and I'll make us tea", she said, starting to wheel her bicycle again.

He smiled in agreement and they set off walking; her hanging back slightly as he carried on his duties, checking warehouse doors and alleyways. He walked, hands clasped behind his back, in that familiar pace that he seemed to adopt when in uniform. He had gone quiet for a moment as they continued to stroll towards Nonnatus.

"Camilla, the erm...the Sergeant wants me to speak to Sister Monica Joan about yesterday. Speak to her _officially_".

Chummy's heart sunk. She had hoped that it would not come to this. Assaulting a Police Officer was a terrible thing; she had been there herself although for some reason better known to the particular Police Officer involved, she did not even receive a ticking off.

"You didn't press charges against me, why is Sister Monica Joan so different?" she asked as they continued to walk side by side.

He paused. That was a question he could not answer. He knew he should have done; should have arrested her for assault but whilst he had known what had physically hit him, he was not sure of the emotional impact of being run over by a speeding midwife. Something had stopped him putting it down to nothing more that an accident although it had been weeks before he could place that mysterious obstacle as love.

"I could hide the bruises" he replied, knowing she had already apologised far too many times than he had ever deemed necessary. "Frank couldn't hide that lip".

She nodded silently and somewhat sadly.

"The Inspector saw him as soon as he walked through the door of the station and well, he had no choice".

"No", she replied, quietly. "One does not suppose that he did".

They walked the last few hundred yards to Nonnatus in relatively silence, at least in words, although he had smiled and squeezed her hand as she rolled her bicycle into the shed. She was in this odd place of knowing he had to do his job yet seeing how ill Sister Monica Joan was becoming, knowing that her violence towards the officer had no intention behind it at all. It was only fear.

The kitchen was quiet although footsteps could be heard overhead as she boiled the kettle and he sat at the table. She sat with him, grateful for a moment's peace before Sister Evangelina would barrel down the stairs to bark out the days orders. She was beyond hunger and Chummy's eyes were starting to close again at the soothing presence of his thumbs sweeping back and forth over her knuckles. He seemed deep in thought again.

"I do love you know you know" Peter said, so quietly, that Camilla thought she had not heard properly. "I'm not asking you to tell me anything; I just wanted to make sure you knew".

"I do know", she replied, her voice laced with a tranquility she had not experienced in some time. For a while now he had repeatedly told her that he loved her but she still felt distinctly ill at ease to utter the phrase herself. He had been the only person in the world that had said those three words to her in all of her thirty two years and no matter how many times he said it, she still felt unworthy.

She smiled and was about to lean across the table to kiss him when they heard singing. It was quiet and in the distance.

"Who's that?" he asked, hearing the singing that seemed to pervade down the corridor from the region of the chapel.

Chummy listened for a moment.

"One would say that that was Sister Monica Joan", she replied. She had barely ever heard Sister Monica Joan sing before. Whenever she had noticed her in Chapel before she always seemed to be in own world, eyes closed, breathing in the other Sisters voices as they rose to the rooftops at Compline, her lips silent. She had taken it, that either by wilfullness or decline, the Sister simply could not or would not join them.

"Prosa In Nativitáte Dómini", he said, casually taking a sip of tea.

She looked at him curiously.

"Choir boy".

"Really?"

"Never ask Mum to show you the photograph", he replied seeing her eyes light up at the prospect. "_No_ Camilla"

"Rotten spoilsport" she smiled before singing came closer to them and stopped as the Sister stood in the doorway.

"Good Morning!" the Sister announced. "Are you well today Constable, Nurse?"

"Yes Sister", they both spluttered slightly, not quite knowing what to expect.

"It is such a wonderful world when our blessed souls are at peace, do you not think?"

"Yes Sister" Chummy replied, now somewhat used to the variance of Sister Monica Joan's mind. She was however cautious of yesterday's events; to be seen with him in quiet presence. "Would you like some tea, Sister?"

"That would be most kind and you must tell me how your wedding plans are proceeding. Weddings are such affairs!".

Peter looked towards his fiancee as the Sister continued towards the hallway, ostensibly to collect the letters that never seemed to be addressed to her and Chummy shrugged in response.

"Is she always so...variable?"

"Sometimes" she replied. "Sometimes she is". Chummy paused. "When do you want to speak to her?"

"No time like the present, I do suppose. Can you fetch Sister Julienne?".


	3. Chapter 3

"Chummy!" Trixie announced cheerily seeing her friend pass the dining room at some speed from where she had been sitting with Jenny methodically arranging the content of delivery packs for the past hour or so. They saw Chummy reappear at the doorway.

"What did she have?" Jenny asked, having developed rather a soft spot for Martha Burton and her rapidly expanding brood.

"A girl and whopper at that!" Chummy replied, having wondered how on earth her patient had not been torn to shreds to deliver an almost ten pound child. She hung on the doorframe, stopped from her mission to find Sister Julienne, hearing her name called.

"I wonder if she will give it up now? That's what? 8?" Trixie asked, brow furrowing trying to recall exactly how many children seemed now to inhabit the Burton household.

"Nine", Jenny replied. She heard Chummy laugh. "There will be a number ten one imagines shortly!" she responded taking two steps away before reappearing around the door.

"I say, I don't suppose you girls have seen Sister Julienne anywhere?" she asked, thinking if her search could be foreshortened it would be most welcome.

"Yes she is out with Cynthia with Mrs Cooper's twins" Jenny replied, turning her attention back to the figure by the doorway, her mental list of the content of the pack stored safely.

"Oh" Chummy replied, disappointment clear in her voice, having hoped that her search for Sister Julienne might just find her quickly and let this terrible conversation that Peter was due to have with Sister Monica Joan be over sooner rather than later.

"Is that why Peter came in with you?" Trixie asked, having passed the kitchen briefly hearing both their voices as they walked into Nonnatus. All the girls had realised that the events of yesterday could well have significant consequences and were almost on tenterhooks waiting for that telephone call or visit. Trixie, and Jenny, when they had spoken, had hoped it would at least be their friend's fiance that came to speak to Sister Monica Joan rather than his Sargeant. At least Peter seemed to be a familiar face.

"Yes. He wants to speak to Sister Julienne about yesterday before he speaks to Sister Monica Joan", Chummy replied, walking across to the table and sitting down, absently picking up one of the metal boxes that contained hypodermic needles.

"Are the Police pressing charges?" Jenny asked, concern etched across her face. They had all borne witness to the fluctuating appearance of Sister Monica Joan these past few months and years and it worried her; the deterioration obvious. Thought of the Sister standing in the dock was too unbearable, particularly as a number of the members of Nonnatus had witnessed the incident. What on earth would happen if they were all called to give evidence against her?

"He doesn't know really about charges," Chummy replied. "Maybe. Probably", she continued in the most non-committal manner she could think of.

"Has Sister Monica Joan seen him here though? Or our Jen here?!" Trixie teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not that one knows" Chummy replied, a stroke of hesitance in her voice. "One doesn't know what Sister Julienne might do though if Sister remains insistent I am apparently having a forbidden dalliance with a work colleague's husband!"

"What about me?" Jenny chipped in. "Apparently I've been through a wedding ceremony in my sleep".

"Question is though", Trixie commented. "Did you sleep through your honeymoon?"

"Steady on there!" Chummy replied, with a giggle as colour rose in her face. "This is one's fiancé we are talking about here!"

For once, all the girls shared smiles, not for one moment perturbed by Chummy's continued overuse of the word 'fiance' these past two weeks. Secretly they were all too pleased to be teasing her for it.

"Sister may be hours yet", Jenny resolved.

"One does suppose he will have to wait then", Chummy replied, pushing herself back from the table and turning tail back towards the kitchen to find him and ultimately turn him away.

She found him still sitting at the kitchen table and, as he drank the remainder of his second cup of tea, she explained and moments later they walked back towards the front door together.

"Can you telephone the station when Sister Julienne comes back? I am only on a short shift until 2" he asked, taking her hand to assist her over the threshold onto the top step.

"I will" she replied.

She saw him smile and it was a smile she had started to recognise, even after only 2 weeks of engaged, well it had been, bliss.

"So, erm... are we going to get away with our illicit affair then?" The question, albeit loaded, sounded so completely innocent and she nearly answered, even though they both knew it was a subject that was perhaps not one for everyday conversation.

Her brain however caught up and smiling, she tapped him in the chest. "I suppose you had better go back inside and ask your wife".

"I am", he replied. His voice was oddly stern and the smile she had on her face slowly slipped away.

"I'm not your wife for 22 days" she replied, having been mentally ticking off the calendar as August crawled into September.

"Camilla, I'm asking my wife", he replied as she could feel his thumb rubbing her hip and it was all together far too distracting. She was still always slightly flummoxed and there were still these times that she was relatively sure he was looking so deep inside her she was sure he could see her soul. For a girl with little, well actually no experience of men or even little knowledge of that strength of feeling regarding any other human being, it did unnerve her that he would look at her with such an intensity. Still, in those moments when she had sat and thought it was something that had never failed to raise a smile to her face that he was just so 'interested' in her, her thoughts and opinions that she wondered if she might never tire of it.

"Camilla?" It was a question, but his voice was so quiet.

"What?" she asked, her voice equally as low, the rumble of the early morning of Poplar suddenly seeming a million miles away.

"I hope we are never driven to that".

"To what?" she replied, not knowing what he meant.

"Being so tested with each other that we stray"

"We won't" she replied simply. "We just won't", she continued, before pausing to dot a kiss on his lips. "Now go to work".

Upstairs, they did not realise they were being watched. A figure, shrouded, stood in the shadows detailing the scene below her gently twirling the crucifix that lay on her chest seeing the Police Officer trot down the steps, turn and smile before going on his way.

"Young people", she had often thought to herself. "So very much to choose from, so very much to live for".

It had, for a while been a coquetry denied, a love prevented. She had thought of the need to speak her mind on a certain Lady Browne but for some reason she had been stalled in her endeavours to converse with the woman when she had visited and she had little inkling why. She had words to say to this person; words to intervene to prevent a loss for this child so clearly in love. It had been her own want, in a year she could not recall and a face she could no longer place, to run in contravention of the want of her mother.

Who was this woman to deny God's will between two hearts so clearly suited? She had seen her, Sister Julienne by her side and did not comprehend being moved away by Sister Evangelina, words staying firmly locked inside her protesting and being pacified like a small child being handed a shiny, painted toy in the slice of cake that had been placed before her. Were they fearing what she might say to this woman? Why should they fear words that fell from her mouth? They did not know of him and, as her memories faded of that uniformed figure, she wondered if one day he would disappear from her thoughts forever. She did not want that for this child.

_'Love sometimes wants us to do a great favour; hold us upside down and shake the nonsense out'_

It was nonsense that station ought to take precedence over love she thought to herself surveying the scene below her. It had pleased her heart beyond measure that the Policeman had come to visit again. She knew his face,although his name would occasionally be lost in the mists, and knew that she would use her best endeavours to help.

"What was the phrase?" she thought to herself, her mind slowly turning in its search. She took two steps away when those words delivered themselves.

_"__I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being"._

She nodded to herself in a most determined manner.

She would have to remember to tell the child that one day.


	4. Chapter 4

Babies and burglaries had prevented him on three occasions now from speaking to Sister Julienne and for that, from seeing Camilla for longer than he cared for too. The lady herself, as each day rolled by, had become increasingly agitated at the thought of this conversation still to come but there had never seemed to be an opportunity for it to take place, each moment snatched by a seemingly more pressing event.

Friday had rolled around and as the girls prepared for the dance, Chummy slipped out to the hallway to seek the letters that she had been meaning all day to collect. Instead however, she found Sister Monica Joan standing in the hallway with the front door slightly ajar as she peered out into darkening evening. Although she only saw her from the back, Chummy could almost feel the terror that seemed to be pervading from her very bones.

"Sister?" she asked quietly to no response, before the Sister must have realised her presence and turned her head.

"I am afraid you must be most careful my dear", the Sister said, whispering, closing the door quietly behind her. "There are some ruffians standing at the bottom of the steps. I do feel very much that we must telephone the Police".

"Ruffians?" Chummy replied, having not seen anybody in the brief glimpse she had from the doorway before it was closed. She had also not heard the word 'ruffians' for years.

"Yes. Four young men" the Sister replied, still her voice so quiet, her back leaning against the door hands clasped to her chest. "I must telephone the Police! It is an utmost urgent occurrence!"

"Sister, stay there. I will look", Chummy replied, seeing the elderly lady's eyes dart from side to side in increasing panic, churning over in her mind what was the most tormenting of sights. Each and every Nun and Nurse were quite used to children and teenagers playing football so if it was any of the usual suspects Chummy knew she would have no hesitation in asking them to be quiet.

"I do not know who they are!" the Sister continued, moving away to stand behind Chummy. "Only the Lord will help us if they decide to besiege the ramparts! I did tell them that the battlements were simply too vulnerable but would they listen to me? No they will never listen to me!" Chummy could see out of the corner of her eye that the Sister was shaking her head.

"It will be fine and dandy Sister", she replied, moving towards the door. "Let me see".

The Sister stood aside with a 'please be most careful' falling from her mouth.

Carefully Chummy opened the door a crack, now seeing the four figures standing by the advertising hoarding with their backs to the building. She closed the door quietly.

"It's quite alright Sister. It's Jimmy and Peter", she said not actually knowing the names of the two others, both Police Officers, who were with them. "They are just waiting for us".

"Us? Us? Why would they be waiting for you and me?" she asked curiously, brow furrowing voice increasing in haste at this situation unfolding before her eyes.

"I meant they are waiting for me and the girls", Chummy replied realising her choice of word might not have necessarily been the most suitable. "We are going to the dance".

"You are going to a ball?" the Sister asked, face suddenly lighting up.

"Yes Sister" Chummy replied, not being the slightest bit inclined to explain the difference.

"Oh how wonderful!" she replied, her face having changed from fear to almost childish joyfulness in a trice. "I always thought going to the dance was an awful imposition but oh, the music! The dresses!" she continued swirling the hem of her habit as though it was some delicate silk.

"Did you know that he would always escort me?"

Chummy was just about to ask who 'he' was when Trixie, Jenny and Cynthia appeared.

"Are we early or are they late?" Trixie asked, skirt swinging as she tucked her bag underneath her arm.

"They are early and outside" Chummy said, nodding her head behind herself about to direct Sister Monica Joan back into the kitchen as Jenny and Trixie walked past. She noticed that Jenny had kindly collected her handbag too.

Chummy placed a hand quietly on Cynthia's arm to ask her to wait.

"Could you help me find one of the Sisters? One doesn't think Sister Monica Joan is feeling too tip top".

"Of course", Cynthia whispered, seeing herself how agitated the sister seemed to be, the brief exchange regarding their destination having done little to change her obvious state.

Once they had carefully installed Sister Monica Joan under the care of Sister Bernadette, Cynthia and Chummy said no more about her situation as they walked swiftly to catch up with the rest of their party.

By the time they reached the Parish Hall, the dance was already in full swing and the girls slipped quietly to the seats at the back as Peter, Jimmy, and the two other officers were assigned to the bar.

Cynthia had been quite looking forward to this particular birthday. It was her third at Nonnatus but the first where she had truly felt at home, now with Jenny, Trixie and Chummy by her side. The dance, even though she would be more than happy to sit on the side lines and watch, seemed to be the perfect opportunity to unwind and enjoy themselves as winter set in. It was an early celebration through as the day itself was not until Sunday.

The table was fuelled by the men of the party and the first event of the evening had to be a toast.

_"__Happy Birthday!" _ they all chorused as glasses were clinked and kisses exchanged under the din of 'Twenty Flight Rock' and a low level of cigarette smoke that had already clung to the ceiling.

"Did you get your parcel?" Jenny asked knowing that the postman had delivered a rather interesting looking package just that morning.

"Yes. It's from my brother and sister in law, with strict instructions not to be opened until Sunday!" Cynthia replied, voice raised to allow the group to hear her speak. "It will be perfume", she continued. "They always send perfume".

The group smiled as the music swelled and the first sips of their drinks were taken and for a moment they seemed content to swop small talk about birthday presents of the past, particularly those that were rather useless or just plain odd. There had been sympathy and laughter and gasps of horror at the increasingly ridiculous presents they were all recalling as memories were triggered and the birthday girl herself had found she was enjoying this dance perhaps more than any other.

As the evening wore on, Trixie was attracting rather a lot of attention as the group had lost count of the seemingly endless list on her dance card, barely a moment to sit and take a drink before her next suitor for the evening arrived at the side of the table.

"Is she off again?" Jimmy noted, having taken his turn to collect further drinks from the table that in this life acted as a bar.

"She is!" Jenny replied, smiling, seeing Trixie wind herself across the dance floor.

"Well are you too?" Jimmy asked, leaning close so Jenny could hear him. "Come on!" he continued, holding out a hand. With a reluctant smile she stood up thankfully hearing the band had now begun to sing in slightly less enthusiastic strains and she would not find herself flying across the dance floor.

Cynthia too found herself, under enormous protest, being hauled onto the dance floor by a friend of Peter's, leaving him and Chummy; glued to each other's sides at they had been for the majority of the evening.

"Fresh air?" he whispered to her.

She nodded at him and took his hand as they walked through the dance floor, out of the Parish Hall to a quiet corner.

He shut the door, locking out the strains of 'All Shook Up' as it began to reverberate around the walls.

"I know we are meant to be enjoying ourselves," he stated, slipping into the space where she had taken herself leaning against a wall. "But do you think it might be convenient for me to speak to Sister Julienne tomorrow? The sergeant is pressing me to speak to her quickly".

Chummy nodded.

"Yes of course. Saturday is Sister's day she prepares the rotas so she will be in at Nonnatus all day".

He nodded. "Can you arrange for me to see them both at noon?"

"I can", she replied, seeing him smile in thanks. "Peter?" she asked, toying with the sleeve of his jacket. "She is ill you know".

"Who?"

"Sister Monica Joan. She didn't mean to hit him", she said, trying to extract a note of pleading from her voice. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was trying to use her position as his bride to be to persuade him not to have that dreaded conversation.

_"__I_ know she didn't, but I have to do my job Camilla".

"I know", she replied. "But, she is so frightened Peter. There are some days where she barely knows who we are".

"She assaulted him Camilla and she has no recognised defence to it".

"She isn't well…."

"That's mitigation", he continued, before he paused. "I am sorry, Camilla. I know what you all feel for her but I can't not speak to her".

"No, I know". He could hear the resignation in her voice, knowing deep down that she was far too honest to be trying to persuade him to overlook it. It was an odd quandary though. He would always try to do his level best to ensure she was happy but here he was, knowingly making her sad and it did not sit.

"Do you want to go back in?" she asked.

"Not really" he replied, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek, trying to let her know that he felt just as horrific about this as she did.

"I'd rather be sitting in Empson Street with you. If it wasn't Cynthia's birthday I might have suggested it instead".

He saw her smile, but still seeing her miles away, a worried look still on her face.

"If I didn't have to, I wouldn't Camilla". She could tell from his face how genuine the words were.

"No, I do know that. Really I do". This time she leant across and kissed him, knowing they were tucked out of the way behind a wall, so she could linger longer as she felt his hand slide up her cheek.

To their side, however, they heard a throat being cleared loudly. Turning, they saw Trixie standing with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised.

"I do very much hope that I did not see what I just saw! I had thought I had brought you up better than that Camilla Browne!"

"Sorry _Mater_!" Chummy replied, her hand how having slid down to join his.

"And so you ought to be!" Trixie continued, smiling knowing that both would take her comments in nothing less than the utmost affection. "Shameful behaviour if ever I saw it!"

Chummy felt Trixie's arm slide into hers, squeezing with genuine affection.

"You do realise you two are going on that dance floor right now?"

"Trixie, no!" Chummy replied, hearing Peter laugh by her side.

"I am not taking no for an answer you know" she continued opening up the door to the main room again, the music suddenly so loud that Chummy's further protest was well and truly lost as she felt Peter tug at her hand.

"Come on" he whispered as they slipped into the crowd for the one and only time that night, their conversation outside left in its place until tomorrow at noon.


End file.
